


Coffee with Extras

by Mraowface



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale is a Little Shit (Good Omens), Feral Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Semi innocuous drink spiking, Teashop Aziraphale, Zero fat, Zero sugar, zero plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:07:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29828829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mraowface/pseuds/Mraowface
Summary: Aziraphale owns a lovely tearoom in the heart of Soho.  Life would be absolutelydelightfulif it wasn't for that one horrible customer in sunglasses...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 39





	1. Butterscotch Delight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely didn't plan on writing another feral Aziraphale fic straight after the last, and yet... Once you take him out of the box, he's really hard to squash back in.

Aziraphale was feeling pretty happy with his lot, all things considered. The tearoom was looking _lovely_ , especially now he'd put up the tartan bunting.1 He had a solid customer base, all of whom were _delightful_. And last Christmas's family row had escalated so successfully that he didn't anticipate hearing from Gabriel until at least October.

Yes, he could look around his tastefully pastel-toned tearoom2 and its equally tasteful clientele with no little measure of pride. _Perfection_.

The door jangled.

In stomped a tall, skinny man all in black. Wearing _sunglasses_. Aziraphale frowned instinctively. Then, because he chose always to be polite to people he disliked,3 he plastered a smile onto his face instead.

“ _Hello_ , my dear! What can I get for you?” There, that seemed like the right insincerity:politeness ration.

“Double espresso.”

“Any cake for you at all?” Aziraphale gestured at the assorted cakes and biscuits, hand decorated in pastel rainbow swirls.

“Nah, just the coffee.”

Well, _really!_ No cake, no smile, and no please nor thank you. _And_ he didn't fit with the colour scheme. Not that that nice American girl did either, but she at least had the good grace to eat her cake and enjoy it.

“ _Certainly_. Take a seat, and I'll bring it right over!”

The grumpy man slouched away, to take his place in one of Aziraphale's _favourite_ chairs.

_Right_.

Aziraphale made the double espresso, with his usual care and diligence. He then carefully and diligently poured an entire shot of that revolting 'butterscotch delight' coffee syrup Gabriel had got him last birthday into the cup.4 Absolutely vile, that ought to do it.

He gave the ghastly concoction a little stir, and perched a tiny shortbread biscuit on the saucer. _There_. Onto the tartan tea tray, and he carried it over to the awful man.

“Here you are my dear, one double espresso. Enjoy!”

Vengeance acquired, he scuttled back behind the safety of the counter. From there, Aziraphale watched the man poke at the adorably sized biscuit, and then ignore it. He frowned a little at his not entirely innocently provided espresso, but still downed it in a single gulp.

_Aha!_ The man pulled an absolutely disgusted face. Result!

Aziraphale watched cheerfully as the man pulled a bottle of water out of his bag and started desperately chugging it to get rid of the taste.5 Aziraphale was a modest man, but he did have his moments of genius.

Of course, it was fifty:fifty whether the awful man would actually pay for his coffee, but Aziraphale absolutely considered it money well spent.

As it happened, Sunglasses did make his way back to the till, with that horrendous swagger that was apparently just how he walked.

“How much?” The man grunted.

“£2.30. Thanks _ever_ so much.”

Money exchanged, the insufferable man finally left, and Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief. _Well_. At least he'd made absolutely _certain_ that the man would never bother him again.

1Memories of frustrated swearing fits at the sewing machine having been fully stricken from the record

2With occasional tartan accents

3Aziraphale could have won medals at the Passive Aggression Olympics, but he was _far_ too polite to accept them

4“It's zero fat _and_ zero sugar!”

5Unsuccessfully

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Valvopus: _smiles saccharinely_


	2. Peppermint Daze

By next Tuesday, Aziraphale had _quite_ forgotten about the frightful man in sunglasses. His days at the tearoom were pleasant and profitable. He sold tasteful cakes, and people found him _charming_.

And then.

_He walked in again._

That _dreadful_ man. Who, on second glance, Aziraphale could now see had a facial tattoo that was definitely _not_ tastefully pastel.

_Bugger_. Aziraphale utterly failed to recall how to plaster a non-condescending smile onto one's face, right up until the very split-second of the man's reaching the counter.

“ _Hello_ , my dear! How lovely to see you again.”1

“Hi. Double espresso?”

“Yes, of course. And perhaps you'd like to try a biscuit today?”

“Nah, I'm good.”

“Lovely.2 Just take a seat, I'll be _right_ with you.”

So, the butterscotch delight hadn't taken. That was _fine_ , because Aziraphale now had the 'peppermint daze' up his sleeve. Green, in honour of that highly unfortunate tattoo. A snake. Why a snake? Who could possibly need a snake tattooed on their face?!

This time, Aziraphale was _cunning_. A 50:50 caffeine:syrup ratio had not fared well. So _this_ time, Aziraphale was going for a full two _thirds_ sugar (and fat!!) free syrup:caffeine ratio. There was no way this could possibly go wrong. Peppermint didn't even _belong_ in coffee.3

He made the cursed drink. Perched the jaunty shortbread, never to be eaten. And took it over with a _smile_.

“Such a _lovely_ day we're having today.”

“If you say so.”

In fact, the day was rapidly souring. This time, Aziraphale did not watch to see the stranger consume his terrible 'coffee.' Instead, he fiddled irately with his scone display. Why wouldn't this man just _leave?_

Half an hour later, he was _still there_. Aziraphale was approximately twelve seconds away from setting off the fire alarm, when that lovely girl Anathema walked in.

He quickly hissed the situation at her across the counter.4

“It's him?”

Aziraphale nodded back.

“I'll read his aura for you. What cake's good today?”

He served up a slice of Earl Grey tea loaf, with trans pride glaze.5

When he brought it over, Anathema looked puzzled.

“He's got the _darkest_ aura I've ever seen.”

“Dark means evil? I should bar him from the shop.”

“Uhh, I dunno. It could mean a lot of things. Intensity of emotion, for one thing.”

“Hmm.”

Oh thank _Heavens_. The man was getting up.

Aziraphale scooted back behind the counter, to take the awful man's money. After change had been given, he couldn't help a sarcasm-tinged “See you next Tuesday?”

“Uh, yeah. Maybe.”

And with that, Dubious Tattoo was gone again. Just _awful_.

1Lies

2More lies

3Or even coffee-adjacent

4In a manner that was _not_ at all snakelike. Not that he was thinking about snakes

5Aziraphale wasn't trans, but he _heavily_ approved of the pastel aesthetic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Valvopus: see you next Tuesday?


End file.
